


Junk Mail

by brookebond



Series: Inceptiversary 2017 [12]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Arthur in Lingerie, Crossdressing, Cybersex, M/M, Pre-Relationship, arthur meant to send that email, it wasn't an accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 10:50:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11645046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookebond/pseuds/brookebond
Summary: Arthur sends a dirty email.Eames enjoys the shit out of it.





	Junk Mail

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Crossdressing square on my Kink/Trope Bingo Card.

Eames sank into the plush armchair, sipping at his whiskey as he opened his laptop. He had been waiting all week for an email from Arthur about the next job they were supposed to be working together. As far as Eames knew, it was due to begin at the start of the next month—which was looming rather ominously—and Eames hadn’t heard a peep out of Arthur since the invitation had first come through. It would be worrying if Eames didn’t know that Arthur was the most capable man he had ever met.

His inbox was stuffed full of spam and he happily deleted emails that announced he needed a penis enlargement or viagra. Eames was a modest man but he knew he didn’t need any extras when it came to that department. His penis was perfect and had satisfied many customers.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he muttered, spotting one of Arthur’s aliases at the top of the list. The subject line was empty but it had an attachment, which wasn’t entirely unusual for Arthur. He had very specific ways of contacting team members and Eames wasn’t going to start questioning his methods.

The email was blank bar the little paper clip in the corner so Eames clicked it, jerking back when Arthur’s face popped up on the screen.

_ “God… I don’t even know why I’m doing this,” Arthur sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, disrupting the perfectly gelled style. _

Eames frowned, thoughts of Arthur in trouble swirling through his mind. Arthur never sent anything without thinking about it first. At least, not to Eames. Whatever the email was, it had to be some sort of coded message he needed to work out.

_ Arthur shot a look at the camera but didn’t say anything else, just cleared his throat and loosened his tie, throwing it off-camera when it came free. “I’ve thought about doing this for a while and I’m pretty sure I’m about to make the biggest mistake of my life,” he said as he started unbuttoning his shirt. “But if I don’t take this risk now, I might not get another chance.” _

There had to be a logical reason Arthur had sent that particular email to Eames. An error. Maybe it was meant for someone else. Jealousy swirled through Eames. While he had no claim over Arthur whatsoever, the idea of anyone else getting to see Arthur undressing like he was chafed against Eames’ better sensibilities.

_ “There’s every possibility you won’t watch this whole thing, but…” Arthur paused, his shirt halfway off as he glanced up at the camera again. “I hope you will.” He flashed a small, dimpled smile at the camera and shrugged the shirt the rest of the way off before standing. _

Eames tried to convince himself to stop the video, to stop watching Arthur undress but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Even though he knew he shouldn’t violate Arthur’s trust, Eames couldn’t bring himself to shut his laptop.

He wriggled in his seat, adjusting his trousers as Arthur undid his own, a small flash of something dark and lacy peeping out. Eames leaned closer to the screen, convinced his eyes were deceiving him.

_ Arthur slipped a hand over his stomach, dipping into his open trousers to stroke himself. _

Eames tracked Arthur’s hand as it moved lower. He was aware of Arthur talking again but Eames couldn’t focus on anything other than Arthur’s wrist as it shifted. He was more interested in watching Arthur’s arm move in tiny increments than the fact that he was stroking himself off. Eames usually loved to admire someone’s cock, but this sensual little act that Arthur was putting on for the real recipient was driving Eames through the roof. He was aching in his trousers, wriggling slightly to get some sort of friction without taking himself in hand. If he didn’t actually touch himself, was he really violating Arthur?

_ “I’ve thought about doing this for a while. Well, debated it actually… almost didn’t send this,” Arthur said as he slowly stepped backwards. “But I thought it was about time someone made a move.” Arthur’s face came into view as he sat on the edge of the bed, hand still tucked into his trousers. He opened his mouth as though he wanted to add something else but, instead, he bit his lower lip and closed his eyes. _

_ Arthur started to push his trousers down but paused, the fly gaping and showing hints of dark lace. “If you tell anyone about this,” he said, staring straight into the camera, “I will murder you, Mr Eames.” _

The world narrowed down to a single pinpoint and Eames was fairly certain he was having some sort of aneurysm. That had to be the reason why he thought he’d heard Arthur say his name. That had to be the  _ only _ reason. Surely.

Eames finally managed to move, his fingers sliding over the trackpad to turn the video off. He was done violating Arthur’s privacy. Just as the mouse hovered over the stop button, Eames froze, staring at Arthur sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs spread wide and cock straining against the black panties he was wearing.

His mouth went dry at the sight, eyes travelling along the length of Arthur’s legs, taking in the thigh-high stockings. It wasn’t physically possible, but Eames was pretty sure he got harder at the sight of those tights clasped to the garter belt Arthur was wearing.

Eames had never thought he’d fancied men in lingerie before, but Arthur was sinful and Eames couldn’t stop watching. Even if Arthur walked in right then aiming a gun at Eames’ head, there was no way Eames could tear his gaze away as Arthur rubbed the heel of his palm over his silk-clad, straining erection.

“Oh, Arthur,” Eames murmured as he pressed against his own clothed cock. He was still determined to not pull himself from his trousers, certain that it would be violating Arthur’s privacy if he did.

_ A soft groan escaped Arthur’s lips as he pressed harder against his erection. “I want—” he choked out, a moan cutting off his words as he gripped his cock through the silk. “I wanted you to be here but I couldn’t wait… Oh, Eames,” Arthur sighed and released his hold on himself. _

There was no mistaking that Eames had heard his name that time. In the back of his head, Eames knew that there was every possibility it was just a figment of his imagination, but surely hearing it twice was some sort of sign? Arthur had intended to send Eames the email. But why? What had Eames ever done to deserve Christmas coming early?

_ Arthur stared straight into the camera as he unclipped the stockings, letting the straps snap against his thighs as he released them. When the stockings were all undone, Arthur leaned back, planted his feet on the floor, and lifted his hips. _

Eames groaned as he watched Arthur slide the panties down his gorgeously long legs, somehow leaving the thigh-highs in place while exposing himself to the camera. Eames greedily eyed Arthur, not daring to pause the video to get a better look because he was sure he would miss something if he glanced away for even a second.

With Arthur’s pants off, there really was no chance Eames could control himself. Before he could think of anything better, he undid his pants and pushed them down just far enough to get his straining cock out. The contact of his fingers was enough to elicit a small hiss. Eames was positive he had never been this turned on in his entire life. He was going to be spoiled for life.

Eames wrapped his fingers around his dick, gripping lightly so he wouldn’t get overexcited and finish before Arthur. Even without Arthur in the room with him, Eames was determined that Arthur was going to come before he did. It was hard, though, not to come while he eagerly watched Arthur stroke himself with one hand while the other slowly circled his hole.

He licked his lips, eyes widening as Arthur slipped a finger inside himself. Eames’ fingers tightened around himself, wishing it was Arthur he was holding.

_ “Fuck…” Arthur groaned as he slipped his finger out and reached over to the bedside table for a tube of lube. He generously coated his fingers before sliding back to his hole and slowly pressing two fingers inside. _

Eames desperately wished he could see Arthur’s face as those fingers moved inside him. He would have given anything to watch every minuscule change he made but Eames was more than happy to settle for enjoying the pleasure of Arthur getting himself off.

He moved his hand faster, pacing himself with Arthur. Their moans mingled together, Arthur’s louder and more pronounced over the tinny speakers of Eames’ laptops. It was ridiculously hot, thinking that Arthur had intentionally recorded this video then sent it via email. It was risky, putting it out there on the internet where any hacker could get their hands on it. That thought flipped something inside of Eames and he couldn’t stop moaning Arthur’s name as he came, spilling over his shirt and hand.

Eames opened his eyes, cursing himself for ever closing them, and found Arthur panting heavily on the bed, come pooling on his stomach and fingers slipping out of his hole.

He had missed the show.

His dick twitched, valiantly trying to demand another round just so he could watch Arthur finish. But he was too tired to consider going again. His greedy dick was going to have to wait for a repeat.

_ Arthur lifted up onto his elbows, smirking into the camera. “Happy watching, Mr Eames.” Suddenly the screen went black. _

Eames cursed and used his clean hand to back the video up, pausing on Arthur’s smug smirk. He desperately wanted to wipe that look off Arthur’s face, wanted to make Arthur feel just as he did.

He grinned and grabbed his phone off the table, where it had sat forgotten since he’d opened his emails.

It was a little difficult, finding the right angle, but Eames was pretty chuffed with the perfectly debauched look he managed to capture: come drying on his shirt, cock softening, lips parted ever so slightly.

He sent the picture to Arthur and cleaned himself up before climbing into bed and waiting for Arthur’s next move.


End file.
